


out of the darkness (and into the sun)

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction, The Princess Diaries
Genre: Alternate Universe-Royalty, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, No Smut, Prince Harry - Freeform, Sexual Tension, ha ha, louis is the guy trying to steal his throne, this is the princess diaries 2 movie in case u didnt know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the princess diaries 2 au; harry is going to be king soon, but there's one obstacle in his way. a short, blue-eyed, caramel-haired obstacle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	out of the darkness (and into the sun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likethemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethemoon/gifts).



> oh my god hi 
> 
> first i would like to say that i only listened to kelly clarkson's 'breakaway' while writing this and there is a high chance i will never be listening to that song again without thinking of harryandlouis
> 
> to my lovely prompter: good lord, you gave the best prompts. there is a high, high possibility that i will use one of them on my own time and gift it to you anyway, thats how much i loved them. but the princess diaries is like, one of my favourite movies ever, and my stomach literally flipped when i saw that you wanted an au. we also have super similar writing styles, so i was very relieved that you also use all lowercase. anyway. i had so much fun writing this. thank you so much for the lovely prompt, i hope i did it justice. xx 
> 
> to everyone reading this: first of all, thank you. that's really cool of you. i apologise for the grammar errors and the really choppy dialogue, i didn't have a beta or anything. also, i apologise for the lack of curse words. i consider the princess diaries a children's movie, and i couldn't bare making it the tiniest bit dirty. i hope you enjoy it anyway. 
> 
> to alexis and naureen: thank you for organising this and dealing with my constant messages. you guys are super cool.
> 
> enjoy x 
> 
> (ps: for your enjoyment, here is an audio clip of harry styles singing a part of the genovia national anthem while trying to sing 'oh canada': https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKyLqGhWvsY)

21 is a weird age.

it’s like, you’re actually becoming an adult. you can drink when you’re 21, you can get into clubs and concerts, you’re done with school. for harry, this means that he can rule a country.  
it’s been four years since his grandmother told him he was a prince. it still comes as a shock to him.

it’s 12:05, 17 june, and he’s on a plane to genovia. where he’s gonna be king soon.

king.

good lord.

“harry? you alright dear?” his grandmother’s soothing voice snaps him out of his train of thought. he tears his eyes from the plane window to meet her gaze.

“yeah. fine. bit nervous, that’s all.”

“oh, darling.” she sits next to him and holds his hand with hers. “i know you are. i felt that way when i became queen. but you’ll get used to it in no time. you were born for this, after all.” her voice comforts him. it brings a rush of adrenaline through his veins, but not the bad kind. the kind you get before you ride a big wave at the surf, or the kind you get at the top of a roller coaster. he’s ready. he’s always been ready.

 

**********

 

“presenting, his royal highness: harry edward styles, prince of genovia."

the horn blows. harry clenches his fists and makes his way down the spiral staircase. there's easily over 200 people here. all harry has to do is dance with all the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in the land, in hopes of finding a king or a queen to rule by his side. which like, no. probably not gonna happen. all the rulers in genovia are old and fat and rude. it’s not like he can get out of it, though, since practically every action made by the royals in genovia is based upon tradition.

he waves with his right hand, floppily and awkwardly, and he can see his grandmother giving him a glare in the center of all the people. they all raise a toast to him, and he can’t help but beam in pride.

he dances with multiple clumsy old people, getting passed off by one to another, feeling like a toy being passed around the sandbox between a bunch of five year olds. he excuses himself off to the bathrooms after what seems to be the 7th, 8th, 23rd dance to let himself breathe.

he fumbles with the crown on his head in the mirror. somehow, it doesn’t feel right.

he brushes it off and turns around to exit the bathrooms, only to bump into a rather small figure.

“oops! sorry, i wasn’t paying attention. i’m so-” and there it is. it’s that moment, the one people talk about in fairy tales, the one he’s been looking for all along.

blue eyes stare back at him, surrounded by golden skin and caramel hair fluffed up into a quiff. his suit is barely a suit, just a black t shirt and a black blazer. not fit for a royal, but his face says otherwise. it could rule a kingdom in itself.

“hi,” the boy says. “um-your highness. sorry, i don’t think we’ve properly met. i’m louis. very nice to meet you.” he bows dramatically.

“oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” harry chuckles.

“why of course i do!” louis laughs in reply. “a beautiful face like yours shouldn’t receive any less.” he winks. harry almost faints right there.

“i best be going. it’s been a pleasure, your highness.” louis takes harry’s gloved hand and places a soft kiss on the back of his hand.

“i-uh, it’s. it’s harry. just harry. yes. sorry.” harry stumbles out. nice going.

“alright, just harry. happy birthday.” and then he’s gone.

 

 

*********

 

he’s dancing with a 6-foot-7 duke from ireland who spins him until his sick when he sees him again.

“may i?”

the irishman moves away and louis takes harry in his arms, swaying him in a perfect rhythm. they fit like puzzle pieces. harry may be over thinking a bit.

“you look lovely tonight.” louis says. harry swoons.

“thank you, very much. as do you.” harry replies back cooly. he gives himself a metaphorical fist bump for keeping himself sane.

“the green jewels on your crown compliment your eyes. they’re beautiful, you know. as are you.” good god, who is this guy, and where has he been all of harry’s life?

harry blushes. before he can say anything, louis is whipped away from him and replaced by an old greek man who speaks in a completely different language. casual.

he doesn’t see louis again for the rest of the night, much to his dismay. after the party's over, his grandmother knocks on the door in his room and asks him if he saw anyone he was interested in.

“i-i have my eye on someone.” harry flushes.

his grandmother gives him a knowing grin before closing the door quietly. harry falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

********

 

the sun is shining in harry’s eyes when he wakes up.

it’s comforting, really. honestly, he finds more comfort in waking up in genovia than back in san francisco. which is good, in the long run, considering this is what he’ll be doing for the rest of his life.

he springs out of bed with more gusto than intended, and manages to step on the castle feline, molly. she lets out a squeak in surprise and runs out of the room.

 _you clumsy bastard_ , harry scolds himself. _you stepped on a cat. next thing you know, you could be stepping on the citizens themselves._

over-thinking is quite a popular concept in harry’s mind.

he slips on a robe and hobbles barefoot down the hall, his senses focused on the sweet scents coming from the kitchen. he speeds up his steps towards it, and-

“oh my goodness, _shut up!_ ”

the shriek from the queen makes him stop in his tracks, followed by loud yells and arguing. harry’s eyes widen, not only to the hilarity of his grandmother using american slang. he follows the sounds, leading him to a small window at the far corner of the hall. he lifts the screen and the parliament room sits below him, rows of men in white wigs and the queen sitting on her throne at the front.

“that’s-that’s not even possible! harry’s first in line for the throne.”

“right, yes. but see, the thing is- and forgive me, your highness- not all of us are sure that harry is suitable enough to rule our great nation.” a scrawny old man states, his wig all askew. harry wants to rip it off his head and choke him with those dumb ringlets.

“i beg your _pardon?_!” the queen slams her fists on the table.

“we’ve taken a vote. it’s been decided that harry needs someone to rule by his side, a queen or a king to assist him.”

“i don’t understand.”

“the prince must marry before he takes the throne.”

“what? no!” harry yells. he doesn’t realize that he said it out loud until the entire throne room is looking above them to try to find a source of the noise. when they fail to, chatter begins throughout the members of the parliament, and the judge slams his hands on the table.

“enough!” he yells. the queen stands beside him, her tiny body infuriating with rage. “since it’s been cast by vote, there’s no way to repeal it. i suggest we give prince harry....one year. if he does not, then lord tomlinson will receive the throne.”

“i object!” the wigged man standing at the front yells. “one year is too long. i propose thirty days. if in thirty days, harry does not find someone to rule by his side, my nephew, lord tomlinson, will take the throne.”

mumbles of agreement flow through the courtroom, the judge swings his gavel, and harry is about to explode.

he slams the air vent shut, turns promptly on his heel, and tries not to break anything on his way to the throne room.

 

********

 

“thirty days?? how can parliament expect me to fall in love in thirty days?? i’ve been waiting sixteen years, surely thirty days won’t do anything-”

“harry.”

“i don’t understand! where’s my big love story? it's like they’re setting me up with an arranged marriage or something, i don’t-”

“harry.”

harry stops pacing and turns to face his grandmother, putting a finger up to his mouth and chewing on the nail.

“i had an arranged marriage. it wasn’t bad, it was quite nice, actually. we were fond of each other. great friends, we were-”

“okay, yeah, that’s great, but i don’t want fondness. i dream of love.” harry sighs, picking at the loose string on the sleeve of his robe.

“you don’t have to become king. you could go back to san francisco and live life just how you did before. get some job in an office building, find true love, raise a family in a cottage out in the mountains. if that’s what you really want. but please. think about all that you’re giving up.”

harry thinks for a moment, but the answer rushes through him faster than he could even think about the other option.

“no.” he says, puffing his chest out. “i can do this. i’m not gonna quit. some nasty old man isn’t going to stop me from doing the exact thing i was born to do.”

the queen smiles wide, “there’s a king.”

 

********

 

to keep things peaceful, the queen has invited lord tomlinson and his uncle to stay with them in the palace for a few weeks. harry tried to object, stating that he ‘refuses to share his air with those filthy muskrats’. but low and behold, here he is, standing in the atrium, waiting to greet them.

“i can’t believe i have to be nice to this guy. i mean he’s rude, he’s ignorant, vain-”

“have you met him?”

“well-no. he probably is, though. like why now? out of nowhere he just comes up like ‘hey! i want to be king too’?? whats that about??” harry huffs, crossing his arms around his chest.

“whether he is or he isn’t, we will be wonderful hosts and present ourselves with grace and poise.”

before harry can object, trumpets are blaring and he’s standing up, awaiting the guests to come in through the doors.

viscount austin comes in first, whom harry recognizes from the throne room, and his bones begin to vibrate with anger. however, he manages to contain himself and shake his hand firmly.

after viscount austin greets the queen, lord tomlinson comes running in, and it’s the last person harry wants to be his worst enemy.

in front of him stands louis, the same boy from the ball a few nights prior.

he feels like he’s going to throw up.

louis kneels down and kisses the queen’s hand, murmuring compliments that harry can’t even hear over the ringing in his ears. of all the people it could have been.

thoughts flow through harry’s mind, of betrayal and humiliation and disappointment, and the only thing he can think to do is take one step forward, slam his foot down on louis’, and strut out of the room.

before he can think, he runs to his bedroom, slips out of his clothes, jumps on the bed, and buries himself under the covers.

his grandmother runs in soon after, yelling all sorts of things at him. how can you be so disrespectful, and this is not the behavior of a king. but when harry emerges from under the sheets, her face drops and her gentle eyes are enough for harry to blurt out everything about the night before.

he goes into detail, about how magical the night was and the way louis looked at him, the blue in his eyes and the sparkle in his smile. his grandmother listens intently, and when he finishes she smiles at him and says:

“as a queen, i think what you did was disrespectful and terrible etiquette. however, as a grandmother, i say: hell yeah.”

harry grins, taking his grandmother’s tiny hand and holding it in his.

“now, how about we look at some eligible bachelors for you?”

 

********

 

“too old.”

“too young.”

“too…no.”

they’re flipping through a slideshow that the queen’s assistant, samantha, put together for him, showcasing all the gay royals in the land. they’re on slide 32 of 50, and harry has had no luck.

“how about this one?”, samantha says, flipping to the next slide. “23, loves horseback riding and long walks on the beach." harry nods. "oh, and he collects knives."

"uh, no." harry groans. "i'd prefer not to get assassinated before i become king, thanks."

samantha groans in frustration before angrily pressing the next slide button repeatedly, causing the slides to rush past quickly.

"wait! stop. go back a few." his grandma says from the back of the room. "i think i saw something."

samantha obeys and flips the slides back.

"okay. there! look."

on the screen is a decent looking man, a year older than harry, a noble from england. his name is nicholas, he's interested in photography and literature. perfect.

they all agree on him, and a meeting is arranged for harry and nicholas to have dinner the next evening. harry isn't even nervous. if anything, this will make louis jealous, he'll regret everything, and step down from the throne line.

as if on cue, as soon as harry steps out of the room, he's met with the devil himself.

"harry."

and, shit. he's really beautiful. it's a shame he's a dickhead.

"louis."

"how's your day going?" louis says, putting on a bright smile. his charm doesn't affect harry. in fact, it makes him angrier.

"cut the bullshit, louis." harry spits out. "i know you don't like me. and frankly, i don't like you either. you used me for your own benefit. there's no friendly relations here, so why don't you just leave me alone?" harry turns on his heel to walk away, but not before he sees the look of hurt on louis' face.

_walk away, walk away, walk away..._

"nice jammies, by the way!" louis calls out from behind him. harry turns around, sticking his tongue out at him like a child. louis winks in return.

fuck this guy, seriously.

 

********

 

nicholas turns out to be a nice guy.

they have dinner at some expensive restaurant by the water. harry orders mac and cheese from the kids menu and nicholas orders shrimp, scallops, and snails. harry learns that nicholas is fluent in six languages, plays twelve instruments, and really likes to photograph people against a white wall. he speaks with a harsh english accent, and he likes to itch his neck a lot. he eats slow, chewing every bite, but he talks fast.

they both order ice cream sundaes for dessert. harry learns that nicholas likes to eat ice cream with a fork, from the bottom to the top of the bowl. he hates when people lick the bowl, (which really disappointed harry, he was excited to lick the fudge off of the sides) and he sucks on maraschino cherries.

they take a walk by the lake and nicholas holds harry’s hand, but it’s all sweaty and gross and not romantic at all.

his grandmother is waiting in the atrium when he gets home, eager to hear about his ‘life-changing date.’

“so?” she says, removing her glasses from the bridge of her nose.

“he’s nice, i guess. but i don’t-”

“...think you’ll fall in love with him. yeah, i know. but sometimes that’s all that’s left to do.”

harry drops his shoulders, disappointment flooding his chest.

“yeah,” he mutters. “i guess it is.”

 

********

 

nicholas and harry have their first public outing on their third date. it’s a nice, classic, long walk on the beach. with 20 cameramen walking five steps behind them.

they just talk about things like their families and their pasts. harry tells him about his journey becoming prince, how he found out when he was 17.  nicholas was born a royal, so he seems confused the whole time he’s talking, but he nods and smiles like a polite gentleman.

at one point harry trips over a rock and nicholas catches him before he hits the sand. there should be a spark there, but there just isn't.

good stuff for the cameras, though.

they proceed to have a number of public outings over the next few weeks: walks in the park, badminton matches, horseback rides. nicholas becomes more of a good friend to harry, someone who he can express himself with. which is totally great, but there’s still no spark.

on their fifth outing, they go to a drive in movie on the lawn of the castle, and harry comes back home late. louis is sitting in the front hall when he arrives, reading the newspaper. 

"did you have fun on your  _date_?" he smirks behind the paper. "are you having second thoughts yet?"

"second thoughts? second  _thoughts_? i'll have you know that nicholas is a very handsome, charming man." harry says, kicking his shoes off on the rug. 

"oh yeah, i'm sure. too bad you're not in love with him." louis stands up and exits the hallway, tossing his newspaper in the trash bin. 

 

**********

 

nicholas proposes in the castle gardens four and a half weeks after their first meeting, and a million different cameras are pointed at them. harry tries to play off the whole ‘oh my god! what a surprise!’ with hysterical sobbing thing. however, the only thing he can think about is all those dreams he had as a kid, about the perfect wedding and the perfect spouse and kids in the countryside. it’s just...really disappointing.

the engagement is announced, and nicholas goes off to spend some time with his parents back in england. harry finally has some alone time to himself, which he spends reading numerous comic books in the gardens.

“what’cha readin, _fiancee_?”

louis jumps out from behind the bushes, and harry rolls his eyes.

“i really don’t need your dumb remarks right now, louis.” he responds grumpily, standing up and walking away. but of course, louis has to follow.

“dumb remarks? oh, okay. i see how it is.” there’s a silent pause, in which the only thing going through harry’s mind is leave me alone. leave me alone. please, for the love of god, leave me alone.

“i saw you looking at your ring earlier. second thoughts, right? i knew it.”

and like, no. this is not happening. he is not getting away with this.

so harry turns on his heel, sticks his nose up, and releases the pressure in his chest.

“you don’t think i know what you’re doing?” he spits. louis looks a bit surprised, but signals harry to go on. “jesus christ, you-you….you think you can just woo me like that with your stupid fringe and your annoying blue eyes and...shortness.”

louis laughs, soft and evil. “you danced with this ‘shortness’ of mine, don’t forget.”

harry is about to implode. “i did _not_. _you_ were the one who came up to me with all those compliments. it doesn’t matter though, because it was all a lie.” he pokes louis in the chest angrily. “you didn’t tell me who you were, and that you were planning to steal my crown, you little bast-”

“oh, well _forgive_ me for not showing you my family tree when i asked to dance with you.”

harry’s silent, face crinkled in anger, staring at louis and his stupid, handsome face.

“i am onto you.” he whispers at him, close enough to hear louis breathing stiffly. louis gives a pout and harry turns his heel and walks away, swaying his hips and keeping his chin up.

 

*********

 

“ _a side saddle_? you want _me_ to ride a side saddle. this is a joke, right?”

“it’s tradition, harry. it’s not that hard. if you hold on to the reins tight, you’ll be okay. dusty’s a calm horse, anyway.” his grandmother responds, leading him into the shed at the edge of the gardens. there’s a fake saddle, sitting atop of it’s stand. “you can practice here. just sit there, but instead of swinging your leg over, just-exactly! you’ll do fine.”

harry sighs. he does not have a good feeling about this.

“i can’t wear like, a wooden leg or something?”

his grandmother cackles, throwing her head back, before leaving the shed.

_guess that means no, then._

the ceremony is the following morning, and harry tries to practice all the night before. but when he figured out that ‘practicing’ just means sitting there for a few minutes and repeating, he gave up.

a lot of people are watching him, and that just adds to his nerves. there are cameras too, which...great.

he hops onto dusty, his grandmother giving him a squeeze on the shoulder before fixing his collar and straightening his hat. dusty begins walking, and the announcer calls harry’s arrival, even though his ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. he rides out of the shed and into the public eye, attempting to hide his nerves with smiles and nods, smiles and nods.

he spots louis in the crowd, towards the very back. he looks stunning, his hair flipped into a quiff and his stubble dark against his skin. he’s wearing a sleek, red velvet suit, and the smirk on his face is just too much for harry to handle.

he actually stumbles at the sight of him, yanking the reins to regain his balance. he might have tugged a little too hard, though. dusty mewls and hikes up a bit, shocking harry. people rush to his side, trying to get the horse to calm down, but that only makes things worse. dusty rears back, howls, and then harry is on the ground. cameras are clicking, people are laughing all around him. everything is just too much. he pushes people away from him, gets up, and runs back towards the shed. nicholas chases after him, trying to comfort harry as he collapses into sobs on the floor of hay.

 

**********

 

harry can’t remember when he fell asleep. but when he wakes, he’s on the floor of the shed, strands of hay stuck to his cheeks, and the memories come flooding back to him. he starts to cry again, turning to nicholas for comfort, but he isn’t there. instead, louis is in his place, sitting on the bench in the corner.

“what are you doing here?” harry sits up, voice hoarse.

louis looks up. “oh, good. you’re awake. i-um, you dropped your hat when you..ran.” he reaches behind him and grabs harry’s fedora, standing up and handing it to him from a distance. harry grabs it hastily, collapsing back onto the ground.

louis is looking at him sympathetically, and god, when will he leave?

“are you okay?” he asked softly. harry looks back up at him, puffy eyes and all, in total disbelief.

“do i...do i _look_ okay? i just embarrassed myself in front of the entirety of europe, all the royals are laughing at me, my grandmother is disappointed, and now i have you on my back. you and your-your stupid, selfish, ignorant, beautiful, handsome ways.” harry’s voice raises, and he doesn’t realise what he’s said until it’s out of his mouth. louis looks shocked, his eyes wide. but before harry can say anything, he’s kissing him.

and there. there’s that spark.

harry’s brain is all over the place, but the only thing running through his mind is louis, louis, louis. his lips, his tongue, his…

“oh my god,” harry says, suddenly detaching himself. “what are you _doing?!_ you can’t just..you can’t just go around kissing people! particularly not _engaged_ people, who do you think you are-” he’s yelling now, on his feet and pacing the shed. “oh my god, _oh my god_ , you’re just trying to make me like you so that i won’t marry nicholas and that you can have the crown! i can’t believe this. i can’t _believe_ you-”

“well-”

“shut up! _shut up_ , you’re just trying to confuse me, aren’t you?” harry turns and hits him in the chest with his hat.  
“maybe if you kiss me again, you can figure it out.”

harry can’t believe this.

louis reaches out to bring him closer, but harry swats his hand away.

“you stay away from me!” he yells, storming out of the shed and slamming the door behind him.

 

**********

 

his grandmother finds him sulking in his room, lying on the floor with his feet up against the wall.

“harry, harry. what in gods name is this behaviour?” she scolds. “running away from the ceremony, locking yourself in a shed with the boy who’s not your fiancee- _and_ the one who’s trying to steal your throne, may i remind you. this is not what a king should act like!”

harry rolls his eyes. “honestly, grandma, i’m not in the mood.”

she scoffs. “well, you certainly better _get_ in the mood, the independence day parade is tomorrow and you’re riding in the car with me. you need to redeem yourself. goodnight.”

the door is slammed behind her.

harry pushes his face into a pillow, and yells out a stream of curses.

 

**********

 

the independence day parade is nothing special.

all it is is a stream of bands and dancers and people yelling on the sidelines, and harry has to ride in a car at the end of it.

smile and wave, smile and wave, everything’s the same.

but this time, something catches his eye.

they’re driving down main street, past the orphanage. there’s a group of kids standing on the curb, dressed in rags with cardboard tiaras on their heads. they look awful, bags under their eyes and skin pale as the moon, but they’re smiling nonetheless. when their car drives past, they try to yell and wave, but get told to shut up by their instructor, and harry’s heart shatters into a million pieces.

“stop the car.”

“what?” his grandmother looks appalled.

“i said, _stop the car_.” he tries again, voice harsh. the car stops, and commotion stirs among the crowd.

he jumps out of the car with less grace than a flamingo with one leg, almost falling face first onto the pavement. but he composes himself, brushes off his jacket, and makes his way towards the orphanage.

“hi, guys.” he smiles, addressing the children.

“hello, prince harry!” they all echo back.

“how would you like to be princes and princesses today?”

everyone cheers, and harry’s heart glues itself back together.

he signals over one of the vendors walking the streets, an old man with a sack of plastic tiaras. he hands him a hundred euros, grinning at the look on his face, and passes out crowns to all of the kids. they all get so excited, and harry has them all follow him as he walks in the parade.

as he walks, he realises something. being a prince isn’t about romeo and juliet romance and falling in love. it’s about helping your country. this is what he does best, and he will continue to do it. he’s happy, and he doesn’t need a partner to verify that. helping people is all he needs.

even so, he makes eye contact with louis in the crowd. he’s beaming, almost friendly. the feeling of hate is gone. he really doesn’t care anymore.

he clutches the hands of the kids next to him, and finishes the parade with pride and joy.

 

**********

 

he ends up getting parliament and his grandmother to agree on donating to build a new children’s shelter away from the city, with new employees and supplies. it’s a great feeling, and he feels like his life is finally coming together.

but _of course,_ he has to run into louis in the hallway after the meeting. 

“hi,” harry says.

“hi.” louis responds, taking his glasses off of his nose. “i just wanted to congratulate you on the whole orphanage thing. so, um. congratulations.”

harry grins. “thank you.”

“it was really impressive, you know.” louis’ voice goes soft. “what you did at the parade. you really care about the people. it’s lovely.”

they smile at each other for a moment. and it’s funny, louis almost seems... _genuine_.

“well, i should um-”

“yeah i need to go-”

“it was nice running into you-”

“-put together wedding details and….stuff.”

they walk away, and harry can’t wipe the smile off of his face.

 

*********

 

the wedding is in 3 days. harry can barely keep it together.

he’s in the office, trying to put together a guest list, when a knock comes at his door.

“harry? its louis, may i come in?”

“sure,” harry says, without contemplation. there’s no time for contemplation. it’s not worth his time. “come in.”

louis opens the door, and he looks different. a burgundy sweater, jeans, and converse. not really anything a noble would wear. his hair is shaggy, swept across his forehead, and his hands are in his pockets.

“um, i’m leaving. tonight.” he says, slowly. and like, what?

“what?” harry says, standing up from his desk.

“yeah, uh,” louis takes a step forward, and harry can feel his breath as he talks. “i think it’s time i bowed out gracefully.”

 _oh._ “really?”

“you really care about your country, harry. you’re kind, caring. you’re going to make a great, great king.” he really sounds genuine. his voice is hushed and he’s speaking slow, his blue eyes staring into harry’s with such deep affection, it makes him nauseous.

“thank you, louis. that’s, um.. thats very sweet of you.” harry says, looking at his feet.

louis starts to leave, but turns at the doorway.

“i’m sorry i tried to take the crown away from you. it wasn’t my decision. my uncle was the one to set up the whole thing. but it’s not an excuse, because i agreed with him and did as he said. i said and did a lot of things that weren’t so nice, and i am really, truly sorry.”

harry smiles, lifting his head to say something in return to louis, but he’s gone.

 

**********

 

the wedding is in one day.

harry is sitting in the gardens, trying to relax and ignore his anger and nerves by drawing stick figures on the back of some of the reception menus.

someone sits next to him, and takes his hand.

“are you ready?” nicholas says.

harry sighs. its not right. it’s not right at all, and he needs to stop pretending it is.

“nick? can i ask you a question?” harry says, setting the menu down on the ground and turning to face the man.

“of course.” nicholas looks a little concerned.

“is this right? us getting married?”

nicholas thinks for a second, before charging his face towards harry and capturing his lips in a harsh, closed mouth kiss. its gross. honestly, its kind of painful too. when he releases him, harry has to wipe his mouth, giving nicholas a look of apology.

“anything?” nicholas asks.

harry grimaces, taking nicholas’ hands into his. “i want to say yes. i really, really do. there’s just...there’s no-”

“spark?”

“yes!” harry says. “ _exactly._ there’s no spark.”

nicholas grimaces as well, matching harry’s facial expression.

“me too.”

harry’s face drops in a surprised expression. “ _really!?_ ”

“yeah,” nicholas nods. “you’re a great person, harry. i really love you, but. as a friend, you know? like a best friend.”

this is getting spooky, how accurate he’s being.

“oh god,” harry says, putting his head in his hands. “what are we going to do? i can’t just not get married.”

nicholas wraps his arms around harry, kissing his forehead. “we’ll figure out something. i promise.”

 

**********

 

the birds are chirping, the sun is shining through the window, the smell of breakfast is wandering through the air vents, and harry is getting married today.

he gets his hair and makeup done in the morning, tailors his suit, gobbles down a quick breakfast and a cup of tea, and is escorted to the chapel in a horse-drawn carriage.

your wedding day is supposed to be the best day of your life. its supposed to go by slowly, and you’re supposed to remember every single moment up until the day you die.

for harry, it just goes by quickly, like he can’t wait for it to be over.

before he knows it, he’s standing behind the large wooden doors, waiting for his call to walk down the aisle.

he pukes twice and paces the entire hall three times before he realises that he cannot do this.

he can’t do this. he cannot get married to someone he doesn’t love, and frankly, that person doesn’t even love him back.

so when the doors open, he rushes up to the front, ignoring all of the shouts and confused mumbles in the audience.

“nicholas,” harry says, walking up to him. “everyone deserves a chance at true love, right?”

nicholas nods, eyes wide.

“so, why can’t we?”

harry places his ring into nicholas’ open hand, before turning to face the audience.

“hi,” he starts. “so a few minutes ago, i realised that the only reason i’m getting married is because apparently, i’m not good enough to rule on my own. that didn’t seem like a good enough reason, so i won’t be getting married today.”

the crowd gasps. europeans.

“my grandmother has ruled by herself for like, a really long time. and if she can, then so can i. you might not think that i’m good enough, but _i_ think i’m good enough. so. i’d like to ask parliament to think about your sons and daughters and nieces and nephews; would _you_ make them do what you’re trying to make me do?”

silence.

“i love genovia. i really, _really_ do. and i think i can do a pretty great job making it better. clearly a lot of people think so too. i’m ready.”

claps start from the back of the room, making their way to the front, and harry beams.

“this is poppycock!” a voice booms from the far end of the chapel. viscount austin. typical.

“you think...you think this _child_ is fit to rule a whole country? for gods sakes, he can’t even stand up straight. i’ll have you know, that when prince harry edward styles first heard of genovia, he thought it was a pop rock band from the 90s.” gasps echo through the chapel once again. _god_ , does harry hate this guy. “fortunately, for you, there’s another heir to the throne.”

“no, there isn’t.”

harry’s head shoots up towards the back of the room. and there, muddy shoes and all, is louis tomlinson.

“i’ll have you know, that prince harry is the most caring, smart, beautiful, kind boy- _man_ \- i have ever met in my life. he loves his country. he has a vision for genovia. he cares about the people. and if parliament really paid attention, they’d name him king.” louis speaks with confidence, walking down the aisle, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on the white carpet. “and besides, think about how lovely he’d look on a postage stamp.”

" _lovely on a postage stamp??!_ you’d look lovely on a postage stamp, you fool! you’re making a huge mistake!” viscount austin yells.

“i decline the offer of being king. i refuse to rule when there is someone much more capable and deserving than me. i honestly cannot think of anyone else more suitable for this role than harry.” louis makes eye contact with harry the whole time, and harry cannot stop smiling. his face is going to split.

“you are _insane_! i am not going to let you give this all up for a boy! you’re throwing everything away, you deluded prick!” viscount austin stands up and proceeds to chase louis down the aisle, out of the door and into the hallway. the doors are shut quickly, and the queen is standing there in complete awe and pride of her grandson, and she winks at harry to go on.

“lets do this the old fashioned way,” harry says. “if you believe that i should be king, without anyone by my side, say aye.”

“aye,” nicholas says from behind him.

“aye!” his grandmother yells from the back.

and if the queen says aye, everyone says aye, and harry leaves the chapel hall with a smile on his face and _not_ a man by his side.

he walks to the bathroom while everyone leaves, checking the stalls to see if anyone’s in there before squealing like a child and doing a happy dance.

out of nowhere, louis comes out of the stall in the far end of the bathroom.

“wha-louis? i checked all the stalls, i swear nobody was-”

“yeah, i was hiding from my uncle. i was standing on the toilet seat. cute squeal, you have.”

harry turns red.

they’re silent for a few moments, looking away and shoving hands in their pockets.

“i um, i’m glad you’re still here. i have to thank you for what you did back there. you really saved me. thank you so much, louis. honestly. what you said was so, _so_ nice. i don't know how i’ll ever be able to repay you.” harry rushes out, breaking the silence. louis smiles back at him, eyes glossed over and wide.

“it’s my pleasure, your highness.” he whispers, eyes still locked with harry’s. “ you know, you can kiss me, if you want to.”

and _god_ , does harry want to. so he does, cupping louis’ cheek and slipping their lips together.

it’s a terrible place for romance, a bathroom. but, it’ll have to do.

that spark turns into a flame, and that flame turns into a forest fire, heating up harry’s chest and making his heart beat loudly against his ribs.

louis pulls back for a moment, leaning his forehead to harry’s. “i think i’m falling in love with you.”

“the feeling’s mutual.”

he leans in again, and harry wraps his arms around louis’ tiny figure, lifting him up against the sink and kissing him deep.

harry becomes king the following week, a crown on his head, a lovely boy on his arm, and a country in his hands.

and well, you could say they all live happily ever after.


End file.
